Charming
by Elfwynn
Summary: Professor Flitwick has the unfortunate job of helping Professor Lockheart to decorate the hall for the Saint Valentine's Day feast. What will the snarky potions Master have to say about that? Written for SamMalfoy93's The Supernatural Creatures Challenge.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: This is story is unofficial and written not for profit. It is in no way connected with J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books or Bloomsbury Publishing or Warner Bros. It is not endorsed by any of the aforementioned parties. Rights to characters and places is neither claimed nor implied.**

_**Written for SamMalfoy93's The Supernatural Creatures Challenge. The story is based around the characters' interacting with fairies - the creature allocated as part of the challenge. Hope you enjoy reading.**_

* * *

**Chapter One - **

**Coordinating with Colleagues**

The crisp winter sunshine seeped through the majestic windows, giving the bright and airy office a fresh and cool ambience. The warm fire crackled merrily in the hearth, a welcome protection from the crispness of the air outside. Professor Filius Flitwick rocked gently backwards in his chair. The neatly stacked piles of parchment on his desk gave him a warm sense of satisfaction. With all the essays marked he could now start to think about the preparations for the Saint Valentine's Day feast.

He reached into his desk drawer and retrieved a large metal cake tin. Prying open the lid, he helped himself to one of the delicious little cupcakes that it contained. He grinned and took a bite of the treat; a few crumbs fell unnoticed onto his robes. They really were the most pleasant cakes and they were also a particularly useful tool to help calm distressed students down. In extreme cases, usually around exams, he had even charmed them to do a little dance in the hopes of pacifying the nerves of some of the more flighty members of his house.

A sudden and precocious knock emanated from the other side of his office door. Although he enjoyed these solitary moments, Professor Flitwick was always pleased to have company.

"Come in," he called cheerily. His happiness was momentarily quashed a little as an award winning smile entered his chamber, along with the unfortunate professor to whom it was attached.

"Oh Flitwick, my dear fellow! I received your note. How can I be of service to you? ...Are you are having trouble with anything in particular? Needing some career advice dear Professor? Why, when I was writing my second bestseller, _Gadding with Ghouls_, I had the misfortune to suffer from overexposure. Thankfully, that was easily rectified... surely your little book on charms isn't causing you such trouble? Professor?" the conceited man questioned.

"Oh no, Lockhart, nothing of the sort! So kind of you to come," he said despondently.

"Come now, Professor... nobody wants to be overexposed, do they? Not in the current climate... it is rather chilly you know!" Lockhart said with a wink and a swish of his lilac cloak.

"Really Lockhart! Humph! I just wanted a word about the Saint Valentine's Day feast. I have been made aware of your intentions to decorate the main hall. As holiday decorations are usually left to my direction... I do have some rather good charms for Christmas decoration... the indoor snow is one of mine... you know? Well I thought that... perhaps,you may appreciate my assistance."

"Oh, absolutely charming, my dear fellow. I am sure your little spells are quite adorable. As my assistant, well of course, how could I refuse!" Lockhart replied with a flourish.

He reached into the silver silk lining of his immaculately tailored jacket and retrieved a piece of parchment, which he unfolded with a flick of his wrist. The flamboyant script penned in baby pink ink shimmered and sparkled in the firelight. He handed the parchment to the diminutive professor across the desk. Flitwick sighed as he read the list that his colleague had drawn up. The little pink hearts that were used to punctuate and embellish the lettering were more than a little nauseating.

"Of course," Lockhart continued. "Cherubs are a must! I have this most fabulous idea about employing, say, a dozen or so dwarves and giving them golden wings and harps. They can deliver valentines throughout the day, reciting poems and singing messages of love. Fabulous, just fabulous if I do say so myself."

"If you say so, Lockhart... I am not so sure the teaching staff will appreciate interruptions to their lessons though..."

"Come now, Professor! Surely we all need a little love! Staff included!"

"Well, if you are sure..." Flitwick queried, "perhaps you should... tell them to keep clear of the dungeon classrooms..."

"Come now, if anything will get our Severus in the spirit of the day, a sonnet singing dwarf will surely bring him round!"

"Well, if you say so..."

"_And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare; As any she belied with false compare..._"* crooned Lockhart, "...what do you say? Perhaps I should pen him a little poem and send it along with a winged dwarf... l am sure that we can melt that heart of his!"

The sceptical look on Professor Flitwick's face went unnoticed by the younger wizard. In a wise attempt to move the conversation away from any musings regarding the state of the Potions Master's love life, he read out the next items on the pink, shimmering, heart embellished list.

"Balloons... hearts... fairies..."

"Indeed, indeed... we need to add a little twinkle to the day!" expressed Professor Lockhart.

"Well, it is a difficult time for fairies," Flitwick stated. "I released the ones we used to decorate the Christmas trees a good few weeks ago. We would need to collect some more from the Dark Forest. By experience I know how tricky this can be!"

"Well my dear fellow, I will have you know that catching fairies is a speciality of mine. Why, after I battled my way through the Bulgarian marshes to save the poor villagers from that terrible banshee, their express wish was to celebrate their newfound freedom. Fortunately, I was able to procure going on 400 of those iridescent little creatures. Lit up the whole village! Goodness, what a night that was; the young witches were quite enamoured with me, I will have you know."

"Well, in that case Lockhart, if you are free tomorrow perhaps we could make a trip to collect some from the forest," asked Professor Flitwick as he peered sceptically over the rim of his glasses.

"Of course, of course my dear chap! Perhaps we could meet at three thirty? The students have a visit to Hogsmeade arranged for this weekend and I have availed my services unto this endeavour–but we should be back by three at the latest!" said Lockhart with an air of confidence.

"Umm, well yes... but perhaps we should wait until nightfall, as it is generally recommended as the best time to collect fairies..." muttered Flitwick to the younger wizard.

"Of course, of course! That is what I meant! Just a little test you see... I had to make sure that you know your stuff, Professor. Plucky little things, fairies. I certainly wouldn't want to take an amateur along, now would I? As I am sure you know, there is no end of trouble out there for the amateur fairy capturer!"

"Oh, indeed Lockhart. I am sure that you have little to worry about in that regard."

"Until tomorrow evening, my good Professor." Lockhart flicked the fabric of his robes dramatically, turning towards the door he exited with a level of flair that surpassed the realm of subtlety, indeed bordering on that of the crass.

As the door closed, Professor Flitwick sank back into his chair and sighed, closing his eyes. After a moment he opened them again; reaching into the cake tin, he chose another small cake. A swirl of chocolate icing formed a perfect little sugary mountain on top of the sponge. He bit into the comforting morsel and tried to let go of the exasperated tension that the younger professor's presence never failed to induce.

* * *

The eager faces of students holding bags emblazoned with the names of various Hogsmeade merchants met Flitwick's eyes as he entered the hall for the evening meal. The house elves that tirelessly worked in the Hogwarts kitchens had outdone themselves yet again. The quality of the food was just one of the many benefits that came with his job. Although not as fancy as the cuisine provided at Beauxbautons, the homely dishes suited him perfectly. Conversely, the food he had misfortune to experience on a visit to Durmstang had been too fishy and salty for his sweet tooth. He really should have realised that the diet provided by the Scandinavian school would have been influenced by the school's marine origins. The continued tradition of travelling by enchanted ship really should have been an indication of the importance placed upon the school's heritage.

As Flitwick tucked into the large slice of toffee pudding that he had chosen for afters, he noticed that Lockhart was trying to get his attention from the other end of the table. Flitwick bowed his head lightly to acknowledge his fellow professor. A gleaming smile, two thumbs up and a wink were gestured as a response. This little reminder of their forthcoming adventure into the Dark Forest made Flitwick's heart sink a little; any more than twenty minutes and that man's company became rather taxing. Lockhart had been the same as a boy, probably the most pompous member of Ravenclaw that Flitwick had ever come across during his time as the Head of House. There was a tendency for the charges in his care to be highly strung, but young Gilderoy surpassed anything he had encountered either before or since. If anything, his ego had exponentially grown over the years, no doubt aided by those stupid Witch Weekly Smile Awards.

The Defence Against the Dark Arts professor was unfortunately seated next to the school's Potions Master. Snape had noticed the cheery exchange and was scowling at his canary yellow robed colleague, and his eyes suddenly snapped to meet Flitwick's own. In return, Flitwick let out a sympathetic sigh. Snape's only reaction to this gesture was to raise an eyebrow before returning to grimace at Lockhart. The nauseatingly cheery yellow of the professor's robe was in no way helping to endear him into the Potion Master's good graces.

It was evident even from the far end of the table that Lockhart was attempting to engage Snape in a conversation about the Saint Valentine's Day feast. Flitwick could just about make out the stony set of Professor Snape's features; the lack of animation was an obvious reflection of his feeling towards the conversation along with its instigator. Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately for Snape—Lockhart required little encouragement in his endeavour. Every now and then the odd word was audible above the other diners' munching and murmurs. Flitwick snickered to himself when, for the third time, some sentimental exposition of Lockhart's on the nature of love and romance drifted audibly by.

* * *

As the light began to fade over the lake, Flitwick stood outside at the main entrance of the castle waiting for his insufferable companion to arrive. A large silver cage sat at his side on the stone floor of the castle steps. Although generally he considered himself to be a fair-minded wizard, he couldn't help but feel slightly put out due to the Lockhart's lack of punctuality.

"_Probably still putting the finishing touches to his hair,_" he thought wryly to himself, "_or perhaps, still trying to choose the appropriate shade of puce cravat for fairy catching..._" Flitwick chastised himself mentally for his unspoken comments. The nature of his thoughts were almost worthy of the acerbic wit usually attributed to the Potions Master. Then again, perhaps Lockhart just had that effect on any sensible person in his vicinity. "_Goodness!_" he thought, "_I have to work alongside the man; at the least I should attempt to rein myself in from thinking such unpleasant remarks._"

Looking truly vexed, he glanced back at the doorway. A rustle of dark fabric emanated from the shadows as the Potions Master stepped forward to make his presence known.

"Waiting for someone, are we?" questioned Snape in his rich voice.

"Severus, oh, hello. Yes, yes indeed. Lockhart appears to be a little... ummm... well, he is meant to be helping me collect some fairies to decorate the hall for the Saint Valentine's Day feast," said Flitwick.

"Indeed," replied Professor Snape, "his enthusiasm for the holiday seems to know no bounds."

"Yes, well... I thought I heard him mention it to you at dinner," Flitwick said hesitantly, "Did he, umm... mention the dwarves?"

"Indeed," he stated. "I felt it necessary to inform him that should any harp-bearing creatures interrupt my lessons, then it might be wise of him to take precautions before sipping his tea."

"Oh, Severus, you wouldn't! Would you?" he asked grinning at his colleague.

"If my hand were to inadvertently slip while holding a vile of the calvitium solution, and his mug just happened to be underneath…" Professor Snape paused as a smirk grew across his face. "Well, I could hardly take the blame if he finds that his rather extensive range of hair care products becomes somewhat redundant."

Flitwick chuckled quietly. "Now, that would be rather unfortunate for him..."

With that, the large wooden doors opened and the subject of their conversation popped his cheery head around to greet them.

"Oh hello there! Sorry to keep you waiting, Flitwick, I had to find my outdoor muffler. Tricky things, mufflers; it is as if someone casts a memory charm on me whenever I put it down!"

Lockhart then turned his attention towards Professor Snape. He flashed the Potions Master a broad smile that was not returned.

"Ah Snape, my dear fellow," he continued. "Are you planning to join us? Perhaps, I could teach you a thing or two about the dos and don'ts of fairy catching." Lockhart paused to grin at his colleague. "I would always be glad of another assistant!"

With that, Snape exchanged an exasperated look with Flitwick and stalked off back into the castle.

"Right, well, we really should get things underway," said Flitwick, trying to diffuse the sudden tension in the air. Lockhart, who was now clad in the most obnoxious shimmering mauve muffler and matching cloak, pulled another of his award winning smiles as he looked down at the charms professor.

"By all means, Professor, please do endeavour to lead the way," stated Lockhart, gesturing with a sparkling smile and a small bow. He flipped his hair with a shake of his head and strode off in the direction of the dark forest. Quickly, Flitwick gathered himself, picked up the large silver cage and ran off after his colleague.

* * *

**Authors note:**

- The verses that Lockhart recited (indicated by * ) are actually from Shakespeare's Sonnet 130. I think that Lockhart would be quite content to plagiarise in such a blatant way. On youtube you can listen to the sonnet as read by Alan Rickman (it is a really great recording). The sonnet is about a man being in a relationship with a 'real' woman not a mythological goddess - even mentions her stinky breath (yuck!) and yet somehow it still sounds romantic.

- Calvitium – Latin for baldness (hehe)

**- I have tried to get a lot of references to things that went on in the books to contextualise the story a little. I hope that you find it funny! Reviews will be much appreciated and I will try to upload the next chapter asap.**

**- A huge 'thank you' to Academica at hpff for being such a wonderful beta for this story! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: This is story is unofficial and written not for profit. It is in no way connected with J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books or Bloomsbury Publishing or Warner Bros. It is not endorsed by any of the aforementioned parties. Rights to characters and places is neither claimed nor implied.**

**_Written for SamMalfoy93's The Supernatural Creatures Challenge. The story is based around the characters' interacting with fairies - the creature allocated as part of the challenge. Hope you enjoy reading._**

**_A huge 'thank you' to Hermione Is My Role Model and LM Ryder the Batty Bat for their reviews - it is so encouraging to read your comments!_**

* * *

**Chapter Two - **

**Brawling with Beasts**

As they approached the edge of the forest, Professor Flitwick managed to catch up with his colleague. The trees had a foreboding presence and he knew more than well enough that the mass of foliage and branches before them masked a broad spectrum of dangerous and mysterious beasts. As they entered the trees they were enveloped by darkness. The dense canopy of leaves overhead hindered the moonlight; preventing it from penetrating to the forest floor below.

"Lumos," whispered Flitwick, not wanting to break the fragile hush that settled within the forest during the hours of darkness. A warm glow emanated from the end of his wand; illuminating the dirt path that cut through the trees ahead of them. Another beam of light appeared as Lockhart, who was now positioned just behind Flitwick's right shoulder, followed suit.

The other professor was perhaps, a wee bit too close for comfort. There was an unnervingly high level of tension emanating from his companion's posture. His close proximity combined with his crouching form, certainly conflicted his usual confident stance. "_Perhaps, it would have been better if I had asked Hagrid to come with them to collect fairies as he usually did_," he mused. Flitwick brushed this thought off with a sigh; it was too late now.

The path became rather overgrown as they moved deeper into the forest. Few individuals had reason to travel this far into this section of the forest. The centaurs, although a dominant force within the area, tended to reside in the more westerly regions. Hagrid, in his role as the school's Gamekeeper, was always keen to enlighten his fellow staff-members about the various activities and habits of the creatures with which he interacted. "_Funny fellow, Hagrid..._" Flitwick thought to himself, "... _such an affinity for magical creatures; but alas rather ineffective when choosing names... Fluffy! Who in their right mind calls a large, vicious, three headed dog, Fluffy?..._" Flitwick brushed an obstructing branch aside as he continued his musings. The supple branch, twanged back into position.

"Eeeeek!" came a gasping screech.

Flitwick turned on his heal. There sprawling on the muddy floor of the forest was Lockhart; his shimmering mauve muffler and cloak in disarray. The young professor was rolling from side to side clutching at his midsection and looking distinctly distressed.

"Oh! My dear fellow, whatever is the matter?" asked Flitwick.

At this, Lockhart pulled himself to his feet. "Nothing, it's n-nothing. Just, rather a surprise I am afraid," he gasped in an attempt to cover his wounded pride, "a momentary lapse in concentration my dear chap. Although, it might be prudent if you were to take a little more care when manoeuvring the foliage."

Flitwick noticed that the branch he had just pushed past was now faintly bobbing as it jutted out across the path. As realisation dawned, he offered his most sincere apologies to his now somewhat dishevelled looking colleague. Lockhart's previously pristine cloak was now soiled with grime and dirt. He made a futile attempt to brush the mud from his clothing; there was a distinctly disdainful glint in his eyes.

As Professor Flitwick reached out his hand to help Lockhart up from the ground, a sudden and haunting cry rang out through the trees. The mournful sound sent a shudder along Flitwick's spine, almost as if it were a deathly omen. Caution was always advisable when you were out in the Dark Forest, especially at night time. Putting his concerns aside, Flitwick made moves to help his fallen colleague.

"I am sorry my dear chap," Flitwick implored, "are you alright? Let me help you with your cloak, a quick cleansing charm and I am sure it will be as good as new!"

"N- no!" he stammered in response, "I wouldn't presume to impose. Besides, the fabric is most delicate; the wrong spell and it could be ruined."

The charms professor looked sceptically at his former student. As an expert in the discipline, Flitwick was certainly bemused by Lockhart's attitude.

"If only I had my book of household charms with me! I would be able to tell you the precise spell for the cleaning of refined fabric such as this. Unfortunately, the shock has caused a momentary loss in my memory so it shall have to wait" explained Lockhart, as he swept a rogue lock of hair back into place.

"As long as you are sure..." queried Flitwick, pondering the cloak in question.

"_Perhaps, there was more to it that meets the eye," _he thought quietly to himself, "_It certainly looks expensive enough to have had some sort of protective or shielding spell incorporated into its creation_." The more he thought about it the more it became obvious that there was something special about the cloak. It clashed horribly with the yellow robes that Lockhart had on underneath. For a man who was usually such an impeccable dresser it seemed to be quite an oversight. Lockhart did however; maintain a rather striking presence, despite the ambiguous colour combination. "_In fact,_" Flitwick confessed to himself, "_the man did appear rather dashing!_"

Flitwick couldn't discern the presence any obvious charms or enchantments on the garment. It clearly wasn't an invisibility cloak; and he couldn't find an indication of any other form of disillusionment charm incorporated into it. Likewise, protection seemed rather unlikely; especially considering the vicious tree-branch attack that his colleague had just suffered. "_Then again,_" thought Flitwick, "_the flecks of mud do make him look rather rugged_ ..."

As they trudged steadily deeper into the forest the rain began to pitter-patter through the leaves. "_We must be getting closer to the fairy colony_," thought Flitwick. Fairies are vain creatures and rather prone to arguments. However, fairy magic, although fairly weak, does, when affected by their emotions have a propensity to cause localised fluctuations in the weather. This primarily means that where you find fairies there is a greater chance of rain. Flitwick, remembered reading a particularly interesting journal article in Magizoology Monthly, that discussed the influence of a Fairy colony upon an area in mid-Wales. Apparently muggle scientists thought that the area was subject to a 'micro-climate' that caused higher rainfall levels. While in truth, it was influence of having such a large number of the argumentative little creatures in close proximity; causing the climatic variation.

Swiftly, Flitwick twirled his wand and cast a quick impervius charm overhead to prevent the rain from soaking them. At that time of night, the cold winter air had a distinctly frosty edge to it. Lockhart, pulled his slightly soiled, mauve cloak tighter to his body; this made the fabric shimmer quite delightfully in the wand light.

"I do hope that this little trip of ours doesn't take too long," stated Lockhart, "I was planning on popping down to the Hog's Head later on this evening."

"It shouldn't take too long," replied Flitwick, "there should be plenty of time for a butterbeer or two."

"Marvellous, just marvellous," grinned Lockhart, "I will have you know that there is a pretty, young barmaid that has recently taken up employment. I dare say she will succumb to my charms. Well, I ask ... who wouldn't?"

Flitwick grimaced at the man's arrogance. However, he did seem to note that Lockhart's grin was rather striking. "_No wonder he wins all those smile awards from the Witch Weekly Magazine,_" he absently thought.

There was a break in the trees up ahead; allowing a shaft of moonlight to permeate darkness. The two Professors continued along the path, towards the moonlit glade. As they entered the clearing they immediately saw at its centre, a circle of red and white, spotted toadstools. The fairy-ring clearly indicated that they had thankfully made it to the site of the fairy colony. The rain diminished leaving a fine mist that swirled and settled around the vegetation.

* * *

The two professors circled the edge of the clearing staying close to the trees, so not to startle the fairies. As they walked, a strange rustling noise emanated from leaves overhead; as if something was following them. Flitwick could feel the tension stretch across his shoulders as he tightened his grip his wand. The forest was filled with unseen dangers and although he had never had any problems when previously collecting fairies, he knew that vigilance was definitely advisable. Flitwick motioned for Lockhart to stay still; placing a finger to his lips he indicated the need for both caution and quiet. Lockhart was looking decidedly nervous, his ears twitching at every sound.

The rustling suddenly stopped. A perceivable sigh of relief came from Lockhart and his whole body seemed to relax. Flitwick surveyed the trees suspiciously; the wand light created eerie shadows amongst the branches; but nothing was obviously there. The humid air made everything damp to the touch. As the air condensed on the cold metal of the silver cage, Flitwick was forced to relinquish his faltering grasp on the handle, so that he could wipe his hand on his cloak. There was a squelchy noise as the base of the cage touched the muddy floor of the clearing.

Suddenly, at least four dark shapes launched out of the trees and landed on Lockhart, clawing at his mauve cloak in a frenetic assault. In the dim light, it looked like parts of the trees themselves were attacking the professor. Flitwick jumped out of the way as Lockhart lurched forward in a frantic attempt to rid himself of his assailants. One of the creatures climbed its way up past Lockhart's chest, reaching its long, sharp, stick-like fingers towards his face. It was about eight inches tall and looked like it was made of bark and twigs.

"Ouch! Arrrgh! Eeeeek! Ooooph! HELP!" shrieked the besieged professor as the assault continued.

One of the creatures was attempting to poke Lockhart in the eye with its long, sharp fingers. The others twig-like beasts were clawing manically at the flailing man. Flitwick was momentarily stunned by the sudden commotion. "_What is going on?!_" he though. He suddenly recognised the flat-face of the stick-man like creatures. "_Bowtruckles! They're bowtruckles ... what on earth are they doing?_" Flitwick had never heard of them randomly attacking anyone.

Lockhart continued to howl as one of the bowtruckles' sharp fingers clawed along his face. "_If only I had some doxy eggs!_" deliberated Flitwick. Thinking quickly, Flitwick spotted a rotten log. He pulled it up and grabbed a handful of scurrying woodlice and began pelting his thrashing colleague with the insects. Abruptly, the bowtruckles' attention snapped towards Flitwick; he kept hurling the woodlice towards them. Gradually, they relinquished their grasp on Lockhart and proceeded to scurry around the ground grabbing at the woodlice.

Flitwick steadily used the woodlice to lure the bowtruckles away from Lockhart. He threw a few large handfuls of the small creatures back into the trees. The bowtruckles readily ran back beyond the tree line. Thankfully, the woodlice had proven to be an adequate distraction. Flitwick was rather relieved that he managed to find some woodlice. The fairies would have been really angry if he had been forced to use fairy eggs to distract the bowtruckles. Furious fairies make really horrible decorations and he was sure that a rainstorm in the main hall would not be appreciated by the castle's inhabitants.

The professor was now looking rather worse for wear and breathing rather heavily. His hair was in disarray, his cloak was torn in a couple of places and there were a number of long scratches stretching across Lockhart's face. A few beads of sweat trickled down his forehead; the scratches could easily be healed, but even a mediwitch as skilled as Madame Pomfrey would be unable to heal the man's wounded pride. Now that the panic was over, Lockhart used the edge of his shimmering muffler to wipe the sweat from his brow.

"Goodness me! Are you okay Lockhart?" asked Flitwick, "perhaps you ought to sit down for a little while... now that all the excitement is over."

"Why yes ... yes, I think I shall," replied a slightly dazed Lockhart, "vicious things Bowtruckles. I am sure that you were glad that I was here to fight the nasty creatures off!"

"Yes, I am sure ... your presence is most ... beneficial," said a bemused Flitwick. "_Since when have Bowtruckles been dangerous?"_ he thought to himself, "_they only attack when threatened and are generally considered to be a rather peaceful creature that feeds on a diet of insect and fairy eggs._" What he couldn't work out was why they would engage in such a sudden and unprovoked strike.

Lockhart gracelessly plonked himself down on a tree stump at the edge of the clearing. He put his head in his hands and he tried to catch his breath. Flitwick decided to give his colleague a moment to compose himself. He wiped his sullied hands on a large white handkerchief and resolved to turn back to the task at hand; collecting fairies! He did however find himself unwittingly conscious that of the fact that the exertion had made Lockhart look alluringly rugged.

* * *

Flitwick reached into his cloak and produced a small flute carved from rowan wood, the fairies sacred tree. He turned towards the sliver cage that had, due to all the excitement with the bowtruckles, been left undisturbed on the muddy ground. He propped the cage up on a conveniently positioned rock next to the ring of toadstools and carefully opened the delicate silver door. Flitwick located himself at the centre of the fairy-ring and placing the flute to his lips, began to play. The tune was a simple one. However, melodic accuracy was required in order to enchant and charm the little creatures.

Little flecks of light began to appear throughout the clearing. The peppering of little lights in the darkness created the impression that the heavens had suddenly been mapped onto the clearing ground. As the fairies moved and shifted in time with the music they formed swirling patterns of light like contorting galaxies and interweaving constellations. The delicate and graceful movements of the dainty little lights as they rotated around Flitwick were exceptionally beautiful. Flitwick did his best to concentrate and he calmly continued playing the hypnotic tune.

The fairies gradually danced their way into the centre of the toadstools. The creatures circled and spun, turned and twisted as they skipped and pranced to Flitwick's melody. When the fairy-ring was full to bursting, Flitwick's playing transformed; shifting to a minor key as he stepped carefully towards the silver cage. He positioned himself directly behind it; drawing the fairies towards the cage's opening.

One-by-one the fairies danced their way into the cage. When it was full, Flitwick concluded his tune; holding the last note as he closed the cage door with care. The fairies grinned sleepily out from between the bars; obviously having taken great enjoyment from their dance. While the rest of the fairies receded back into the darkness, the ones that had been caught curled up next to one another and fell into a deep slumber. Flitwick gazed affectionately at the exhausted little creatures. "_Such a beautiful display,_" he thought, "_no wonder they are tired!_" The fairies never needed a reason to celebrate, they were simply happy to play, dance and sparkle. It was their happiness, as well as their ability to twinkle that made them such fantastic additions to the castle decorations.

Turning to face his colleague, he noticed the preoccupied expression on Lockhart's face. He was still sitting on the tree stump, clearly impressed by what he had just experienced.

"Beautiful, just beautiful!" Lockhart quietly exclaimed to himself.

"Yes, indeed it was," said Flitwick; drawing Lockhart's attention, "although, I am sure that you have seen it all before ... Is the dance of the Bulgarian fairies similar?"

"Bulgarian?" questioned Lockhart. He looked momentarily confused. "Oh, yes!" he exclaimed as a thought struck him, "Yes! it is rather similar, if I do say so ... although there was a greater number ... so it was on a rather grander scale... of course."

"I am sure," replied Flitwick, a slight hint of sarcasm encroaching into his tone.

Fliwick suddenly noticed a something move on Lockhart's leg, just below the knee. "Lockhart, there is something on your leg," he warned.

Lockhart directed the beam of light from his wand downward, only to see two large, fat, slimy flobberworms crawling up his leg. He shrieked! The shrill sound echoed; cutting through the quiet of the clearing. Some of the fairies shifted slightly in their sleep in response to the noise, but were largely unaffected. Lockhart on the other hand, launched himself up to his feet, flicking his leg up and down to rid himself of the slimy creatures.

"_This really isn't his night!_" thought Flitwick. To his surprise, he also found himself thinking that the exertion had given the man's eyes a pleasant twinkle.

* * *

**Authors Note:**

**In this chapter I have chosen to use a number of references and influences as a way to develop the plot: **

**In Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream the characters of Oberon and Titania are powerful fairies and their arguments affect the weather. Titania describes what happens to the weather and nature when they argue in Act 2, Scene 1.**

**Bowtruckle – creature described in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Listed as not being very dangerous.**

**Traditional tales about fairies often state that it is easier to meet fairies at night. **

**Charm Flute - Some fairy lore is contradictory, in some tales rowan trees are considered to be sacred to the fairies, and in other tales are protection against fairy magic. I liked this contradiction, which is why I chose rowan wood to be the material from which Flitwick's charm flute is made.**

**Please review and let me know what you think!**


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